


Love in the Dark

by everlovingdeer



Series: Harry Potter Short Stories [162]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blindness, Childhood Friends, Exes, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Reconciliation, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:48:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22598839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everlovingdeer/pseuds/everlovingdeer
Summary: “Just ask, Cormac.” I lifted the cup to my lips, holding it steadily between two hands. Blowing softly to cool it, I took a sip.He held his silence for a moment longer before asking, “How?”“During the battle, I got hit by something one of the Death Eaters cast and it knocked me unconscious.” Shrugging slowly, I tried to be as blasé as possible, “The next thing I knew, I was waking up in the Hospital Wing and I couldn’t see anymore. That was it; I don’t even know who did this to me.”
Relationships: Cormac McLaggen/Original Female Character(s), Cormac McLaggen/Reader
Series: Harry Potter Short Stories [162]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1461751
Comments: 1
Kudos: 72





	1. Love in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted to other sites on 25/11/19

A pub was the very last place I’d ever expected to seek refuge away from the bustling crowd in the streets. But it turned out, it was the perfect escape. When the street had become overcrowded with people clambering to get a look at some famous person, I’d ducked into the nearest place and memory alone told me that I was in a pub. My suspicions were quickly confirmed by the various orders I heard being placed. I’d placed an order for my drink, struggling to push through the crowd until someone caught sight of me and then they were all parting for me like the red sea. After I was done, someone had kindly offered to help carry it back for me and I thanked them.

Sitting in a corner booth, with some much-needed privacy, I took slow sips of my pumpkin juice, content to wait out the crowd. I quickly came to regret the decision I’d made; it seemed this was the worst possible place to choose as my refuge. Whoever had caused the ruckus in the streets had decided to step inside for a drink and unfortunately for me, they brought the crowd with them. At first, I was tempted to wait in the hopes that the noise would die down. But I was proved wrong. If anything, the noise continued to get louder and louder until it grew too much. Draining the last of my pumpkin juice, I reached out to the chair beside me where I’d rested my walking stick.

Searching the seat, I groaned when my fingers brushed against it and it clattered to the floor. Sighing, I reached out for it, but couldn’t seem to find it. I propped a hand haphazardly on the table, planning on rising up to try and find the walking stick.

“Here,” a voice so familiar that it knocked my breath away, started from beside me, “let me get that for you.”

Good Merlin, I could not _do this_. How could I face him again without at least having some time to prepare myself? And yet there was no time to prepare myself because I needed the help – he could see where my walking stick had fallen and I could not. Still, I held a hand out expectantly, waiting for the walking stick that never seemed to come.

And then it came, confused and hesitant and so, _so_ heartbreakingly gentle. “Tabler?”

“McLaggen,” I greeted back so gently it came out in a whisper I was surprised he picked up on it. Because it all made sense now; the crowd was here for him. Cormac, who had become a famous Quidditch player upon leaving school was surrounded by his adoring fans. And who did he happen to stumble upon? A blast from the past. A probably unwelcome blast from the past, at that. At the continued silence, I murmured, “Can I have my walking stick back?”

“Oh – sorry,” he said quickly, his voice sounding so close beside me that it was like he was kneeling in front of me. His hand – warm and gentle – wrapped around my wrist as he placed my walking stick in my hand. I wrapped my hand comfortingly around it, waiting for the inevitable question. Because it would come, soon enough. He would ask – they all asked. It was only natural for him to want to know what had happened to me, why I couldn’t see anymore. But then, soft as the whispers we used to share in a hidden corridor in Hogwarts, he said, “Merlin, it’s good to see you. I mean –”

“It’s ok,” I assured him, using my free hand to push his hand off me.

With a practised motion, I rose to my feet and started to move my walking stick around, getting a feel of the space around me. Once or twice, my stick bumped against his shoe but still, Cormac didn’t move away. I could feel the weight of his eyes on me but he said nothing.

Instead, I asked, “Are there a lot of people in here?”

“Unfortunately,” he said with a heavy sigh, “Will you be ok?”

Offering a smile in the vague direction his voice had come from, I murmured, “I’ll have to be.”

For a moment, I ducked my head in goodbye and prepared to head away. It would be a feat, to make it through the crowd who, from all the voices swarming around continued to linger around us. Around Cormac, really. Merlin, I really needed to get out of here. And then, again, there was another hand on mine and I started for a moment, almost jumping out of my skin.

“It’s just me,” Cormac assured, this time his voice coming right beside my ear. He took my hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm, patting it twice to reassure me, “It’s just me, angel. Just me.”

Angel. I tried not to say anything, not to let my lower lip wobble. Angel eyes – those were the words he’d murmur into my ear at every spare moment. And now I was just angel. But I understood it. How could I be angel eyes when my eyes no longer worked?

“There are too many people in here, let me walk you out, alright?” The question lingered and I nodded. Slowly, I leaned onto Cormac in a way I used to long ago and let him help me out of the pub. As a habit, I kept my stick moving, and it occasionally bumped into the feet of members of the crowd who wouldn’t move out of the way. I heard Cormac’s growing exasperation as he continued to ask people to move away. Some did move, more reluctantly than others, if the grumbles were any indication.

Eventually, we made it out onto the street and at the first breeze of the wind against me, I drew my hand away from him. For a moment, I tightened my hold on the walking stick, not knowing what else to say or do. What did you say to someone who, at one point, you were certain you would begin a life with? How did you say anything to someone who was no longer that person for you?

“We should meet up again,” Cormac finally said and I knew a false promise when I heard one. So, I simply agreed, knowing he would never reach out for me again. And I certainly wouldn’t bring him into my life again. No, we would just be passing acquaintances who used to be friend – used to be more than friends. Nothing more.

* * *

There were some days where I dreadfully missed being able to see. At first, the all to evident gaping hole left behind by losing my sight consumed my every day – it was all I could ever think about. Slowly but surely, I found other things to occupy my life, to fill my days with until those thoughts because few and far between. I didn’t miss it all the time, but occasionally – only occasionally – did I wake up with a gnawing ache deep inside me that refused to ease. It was never the obvious things I missed; never things like being able to see someone’s face or knowing where I was and which direction to take without having to reconstruct the route in my mind over and over again. Rather, I missed the sunrise and the sunset, the rarely bright, clear sky in the daytime and the stars that lit up the night sky. I’d never truly appreciated the beauty of passing time until the ability to admire it was ripping away from me.

Now, regardless of just how much time I spent out of my flat and amongst the crowds, there was that lingering uncertainty and the shadow of apprehension looming over me. It would be so easy to take a wrong turn and end up somewhere I shouldn’t have been. Or even to find myself trapped in a crowd of people that wouldn’t help me if I needed it. Merlin, it was almost enough to make me want to be a recluse.

Unfortunately, I needed to eat in order to survive. And in order to eat, I needed to go shopping to buy food.

My past few excursions to the shop had been successful with me running into no trouble whatsoever. But, as it always was, it took one bad experience to have me hurrying back to being that scared shell of a woman again. The trouble at the pub, whilst not particularly scarring, was hurtful nonetheless. After my accident, I’d done my best to keep away from everyone I knew, refusing to let anyone see me like this. But to be seen by the one person I _really_ didn’t want to be seen by –

“Hey!” someone spat harshly as _they_ bumped into me with so much force that in order to keep a tight hold on my shopping bag, I had to lose my grip on my walking stick. The man continued to grumble as he walked past me, murmuring something about blind nuisances as I faltered for a moment.

Grappling to remain upright, I moved one of my feet out slowly, feeling along the ground for my walking stick. The longer I struggled to find it, the worse I could feel my anxiety becoming. Helga, I _knew_ I shouldn’t have left my house today but –

“Are you alright?” And there he was again as if coming from the dark like a beacon again. Merlin, why was he always around when I was being so useless? He had never been around when I knew what I was doing when I wasn’t such an obvious damsel in distress.

“What are you doing here?” I asked eventually, startling when he reached once more for my hand and curling it softly around the top of my walking stick. “Cormac? Why are you here?”

“I wanted to see you,” he said absentmindedly, voice sounding from beside me. He’d meant it, I realised in a heartbeat; he was one of the few people that had actually wanted to see me again. For a moment, I wished desperately to be able to look up at him, to see what was preoccupying him. And then – “Stay right here, Tabler, and let me go and deal with that piece of shit who bumped into you.”

“ _No.”_ I placed a hand quickly on top of the one that still cradled the hand I held my walking stick with. “I don’t need you to deal with this for me.”

“Tabler –”

“No,” I insisted, firmly still. “How did you even know to find me here?”

“You’re a hard person to get into contact with,” he said slowly, reaching out and taking my shopping bag from me despite my protests. “I must’ve owled every single person who was in our year at school to see if anyone had your address.”

“I still don’t understand why you’re here,” I confessed slowly.

“I wanted to talk to you,” he reminded me so steadily that I knew from memory alone, that he was holding my eyes. Even if I couldn’t see him. “Is there somewhere we can talk? Or do you want to put your shopping back?”

“Let me send it to my flat,” I murmured, motioning for him to passing me the shopping bag.

Holding the bag with one hand, I reached for my wand with the other and struggled for a moment. Without needing to be asked, Cormac moved my walking stick aside and waited silently as I sent my shopping back to the flat. Tucking my wand into the waistband of my trousers, I held out a silent hand for my stick. Cormac was quick to comply, but I hesitated to take it.

“Tabler?”

“There’s a café,” I said finally, taking it and preparing to lead him in what I was sure was the right direction. “It’s just around the corner and we can talk there, I guess.”

“That’s perfect,” he assured me, sounding so relieved as if he’d expected me to turn him down again. Taking my free hand, Cormac tucked it steadily into the crook of his arm and promised that he’d make sure no other arseholes bumped into me. I simply took his words for it and let him help me on my way.

For the short journey down to the end of the street and around the corner, we walked in silence. It was a sort of silence that had never accompanied us before. And yet, here it was, lingering between us and threatening to choke the life out of all my fondest memories. So, I tried, more than once, to shrug out of his hand, to prove that I could do this by myself and that there really was no need for him to treat me like I was precious porcelain that would break easily.

“You don’t have to do this,” I said abruptly, hearing a bell ring. We must’ve reached the café. With short steps, I walked through the open door – that I was sure Cormac was holding open for me. “You don’t have to hold onto me like I’m glass that’s going to break.”

“That’s not what I’m doing,” he insisted, even as he took my hand and walked me into the café. “I haven’t put it past you to just apparate away from me because you’re going to try to push this off for as long as possible.”

I hadn’t thought of that. I hadn’t thought that he’d remember just how often I’d pushed back a conversation we needed to have time and time again just because I was worried about it being awkward. It was why our friendship – no, it was more than a friendship – it was why our relationship worked so well; whenever it seemed like I was going to retreat into myself, he was there to shove me into the real world. Cormac continued to lead me forward, towards a table. Drawing a chair out for me, he took me by my shoulders and gently eased me into the chair. I’d have reminded him that he’d claimed he _wasn’t_ treating me like I was going to break but he’d done this before. He used to do this for me all the time.

I settled in silence, lowering my eyes to where I’d clutched my hands in my lap. Fiddling with my fingers, I briefly wondered what Cormac was doing. He remained uncharacteristically quiet in front of me and I swore my face prickled as if he was staring at me. I couldn’t be sure. But if he was, I wondered just _how_ he was staring at me; did he pity me? Did he resent that his Angel Eyes had been snatched away from him?

“Let me order us some drinks,” he said abruptly like he’d been scrambling for something to say. Clearing his throat, Cormac asked, “Is yours still a sugary monstrosity? Or do you drink your coffee like an actual human now?”

I struggled not to smile at that, remembering just how often Cormac had picked up my coffee by accident only to instantly gag and recoil as the sugar assaulted his tongue. “I don’t add sugar anymore, I have caramel syrup in it instead.”

“Like that’s any better,” he scoffed. His chair scraped noisily against the floor as he stood up, assuring me, “I’ll be back.”

“Alright,” I murmured softly, once more lowering my head. Even when I heard the gentle pattern of his footsteps walk past me, even when he reached out an affectionate hand to rub soothingly at the nape of my neck like he always used to, I didn’t dare look up. Merlin, what was I doing here?

Cormac was supposed to be part of the life I left behind. He wasn’t supposed to see me like this; the very last thing I wanted was for the mental image he had of his Angel Eyes to be tainted into what I was now. It was then, I realised that I really hadn’t acclimatised like I thought I had. Whilst I was alone, living my life by myself, I was certain that I’d gotten used to this life and that it suited me just fine. But all it took was meeting up with someone who knew me from _before_ to make me realise that I wasn’t – okay, that was.

“Here,” Cormac said softly once more, his voice followed by the sound of something being set on the table. And then again.

Lifting a hand, I felt out the edge of the table and searched out for my cup. Conscious of Cormac’s eyes, I continued regardless and felt the porcelain rim of the cup. I followed its path, finally reaching the handle and got a proper grip on it.

“Just ask, Cormac.” I lifted the cup to my lips, holding it steadily between two hands. Blowing softly to cool it, I took a sip.

He held his silence for a moment longer before asking, “How?”

“During the battle, I got hit by something one of the Death Eaters cast and it knocked me unconscious.” Shrugging slowly, I tried to be as blasé as possible, “The next thing I knew, I was waking up in the Hospital Wing and I couldn’t see anymore. That was it; I don’t even know who did this to me.”

There was another silence and I expected that to be the end of it. It was certainly enough detail without being _too much._ And most people struggled with knowing which condolences to give and I never knew how to respond to it. It was just better to sit in this stifling silence. Setting my cup down, I expected to be left alone pretty soon. Except, he wouldn’t be Cormac if he accepted it so easily.

“Is that why you just upped and left?” His hand covered mine then, startling me so suddenly that I breathed in sharply. He retracted his hand hastily, “Sorry.”

“No, it’s ok. I needed to leave to come to terms with how to live like this.” My hand, needing Cormac’s warmth again, curled into a loose fist on the tabletop. “I didn’t want to burden anyone whilst I got to grips with everything so I had to leave it all behind.”

“You left me behind as well,” he reminded me with a sigh as if it had been easy for me to do.

What was I supposed to say to him? That out of everyone, I especially didn’t want to burden him. Not when we’d been hovering on the precipice of becoming something more serious than we already were. I needed to sort myself out before anything else.

So, I settled for not saying a word.

* * *

Following on from our impromptu conversation, I hadn’t heard from Cormac. Not that I’d expected to, either. I knew he wouldn’t owl me, that it wouldn’t be normal for him to owl me instantly like he used to do whilst we were at school. I knew all that, and yet, it was still disheartening when there was no owl addressed to me the following day. I was getting far too ahead of myself. He was living his life, high flying and busy even though the quidditch season had already come to an end, and I was living my own life. I wasn’t certain where we fit in each other’s lives anymore, but I was certain that we _did_ belong there. Maybe as simple acquaintances that met up every now and then for coffee. I would have to be satisfied with that.

The doorbell rang, drawing me from my thoughts. With my wand, I summoned my walking stick and rose slowly to my feet. Whilst in my home, I didn’t really need it, not when I had the floor plan practically memorised in my head. But I wanted to be safe – I’d had far too many nightmares of falling and injuring myself without anyone to call. I took my time getting to the front door and whoever was on the other side, hadn’t rung again so I almost doubted that they were still there.

With a slow hand, I reached for the lock, preparing to turn it, only I hesitated. How was I going to know who was on the other side? What if it was someone I shouldn’t have been letting in? I hesitated for a moment longer, preparing to call through the door to ask who it was.

“Angel?” _Cormac._ His sudden appearance was so surprising that my hand almost fell away from the latch. He rapped gently on the front door then, his voice lowered as he murmured, “People from your apartment complex are beginning to gather in the corridor and I’m pretty sure someone already clicked my picture to send to the Prophet.”

“Just a minute,” I called back, easily undoing the latch and stepping away so he could walk in.

He shuffled into the hallway and I sucked in a deep breath, my nose assaulted by the scent of him. It hadn’t changed in any way, warm and woody and so familiar that I could picture myself once more in Hogwarts, tucked away in the safety of an abandoned corridor and getting perhaps a little too familiar with Cormac when a teacher could round the corner at any moment.

Clearing my throat and dismissing the memory, I said, “Lock the door behind you.”

He made a sound of agreement behind me and I waited until I heard him shut the front door.

Walking towards the front room, I called out from over my shoulder, “Do you want something to drink?”

“No, I’m alright,” he said, trailing behind me. His footsteps stopped for a moment before they started up again. “I didn’t realise you’d kept copies of all our pictures.”

“I don’t know why I still have them,” I admitted as I walked around the dining table. Reaching out a hand, I searched for a chair and clung to its back tightly. “It’s not like I can see them or anything, so really I should –”

“Don’t take them down,” he said, knowing what I was going to say. When he spoke next, his voice came from beside me, as he slowly eased the grip I had on the chair, “You must’ve put them there for a reason.”

_Because I’d needed some way of making this place feel like home._

“Be warned, McLaggen,” I started, deflecting the subject and walking myself to the sofa. When my bare feet brushed against the plush rug I’d arranged in front of the sofa, I perched carefully on the edge. “Just because I let you into my home once, doesn’t mean that you can continue to turn up out of the blue.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” There was another silence that I filled by drumming my fingers against my thighs. The sofa beneath me shifted as Cormac took a seat beside me, the solid length of his thigh pressed against mine. Merlin, I wanted nothing more than to turn into his side and to ask him to hold me. I was so naive that back then, I’d felt like held in his strong arms and shielded by his broad back, that nothing could hurt me. Especially now, I needed that. Cormac reached out a hand, holding it steady in both of his. He began to speak tentatively, “I didn’t reach out to you in the past few days because I was doing some reading –”

“ _You_?” I couldn’t help but snort incredulously. “You of all people? You used to claim that your nose would bleed if you read for more than ten minutes.”

“Ok. Ok.” I could _hear_ the roll of his eyes in his voice. “Just hear me out, would you?”

“Sorry, I’ll listen, I swear.” Turning in my seat, I waited for him to speak.

“The muggles have this concept – these thing called guide dogs.” He honestly sounded so excited to share the findings of his research, that I didn’t tease him for it. “The wizarding world is just beginning to start it with a handful of dogs to see if it can work.”

“Believe me,” I started slowly, “my name would automatically be added to the bottom of the list.”

“Not if we used my name.” His sentence lingered and knowing I was going to protest; he covered my mouth with his hand. I was tempted to lick it, to combat just how childish he was being, “Come on, there has to be some good side to having this influence that being a Quidditch player comes with. Let me use it to help you.”

He still covered my mouth and I knew the stubborn man was doing it so I couldn’t verbalise my disagreement. Instead, I shook my head, stilling when Cormac called my name softly.

When he spoke my name, it was a plea against my temple. His hands went around me then, drawing me into his chest and it took everything in me not to curl up into him. I remained firm, just until he called my name again and I finally nodded and let myself seek comfort from the shield of his arms. I very much doubted using his name would be of any use, anyway.

* * *

Somehow, without my realising, Cormac has managed to integrate himself once more in my life. Not that I had any protests. I might have grumbled to his face about how often he was hovering around me and throwing the occasional complaint that just because it was the offseason, he couldn’t spend all the time that he would’ve used for practice, around me. The more time we spent together, the more insistent Cormac was on pulling me away from the safety blanket of my apartment.

Often, he would drag me out of the house for just a walk, or some brunch or even just a cup of tea. But he’d quickly realised that I got very easily overwhelmed when I found myself stuck in the midst of a crowd. Whilst we’d been at the school, Cormac had never been the sort of person to be so entuned to someone else’s emotions but he knew within seconds when I was reaching the end of my comfort zone. In response to this, he’d set about creating _another_ area of security for me – in _his_ home. Before Cormac had used his name to get me my guide dog – a black Labrador puppy we’d named Cerberus purely for our own amusement – my time was being spent between my home, Cormac’s home and on our little adventures.

But now, with Cerb in my life, I was slowly becoming more confident to spend more time out and about in the streets. Cormac, no doubt proud of my progress, kept it to himself lest I hide in my house just to spite him. However, it was strange really – even with Cerb, I spent probably half of my time in Cormac’s house. I had spent so much time in his flat, that I could map it out in my head if I needed to make my way around. Even now, as I sat reclined on Cormac’s sofa, I could tell from the reverberating sound of Cormac’s voice and Cerb’s whining, that they were near the front door, returning from outside where Cormac had let Cerberus out to use the toilet.

“Cormac?” I called out slowly, hearing only one pair of footsteps against the marble of his flooring. I paused in my reading, letting my fingertip stop on top of the braille, “Are you carrying him around again? I thought we decided that you weren’t going to do that anymore?”

“Leave me be,” Cormac complained, his voice echoing as he walked around the apartment in an odd layout. I listened out closely, paying attention to the changes in his voice due to location, and tried to pinpoint just what he was doing. “He won’t be a puppy forever and who knows how long it’ll be until he gets too old to be carried around everywhere.”

Shaking my head, I abandoned the idea of actually completing the book I’d been trying to read. I searched the space around me with my hand, finding my bookmark lying carelessly beside me and used it to mark my place. Closing the book and setting it aside, I listened once more for Cormac and picked up on the quiet way he was talking to Cerb.

“Really Cormac,” I said with a sigh, “what _are_ you doing to the poor dog? You and I both know that he’s _not_ a puppy anymore. He hasn’t been a puppy since they started training him.”

“He still counts as a puppy as long as I can carry him,” he insisted stubbornly. His footsteps drew closer than, and I realised he was approaching the front room once more.

“What are you doing to him?” I asked once more, hearing Cerb whine as he was lowered to the floor. Cerberus, growing petulant at no longer being held by Cormac, scampered over to me and laid his head on my lap. Instantly, I reached out to scratch behind his ear as I sent a pointed look to where I hoped Cormac was standing. “Well?”

“I was showing him around the apartment.” As if that was such a normal thing to do, he continued, “So if you’re alone here and you need to find your way around and you don’t have your stick, Cerberus can help you.”

“If I’m here alone?” I repeated, continuing to pet Cerberus who whined in contentment. “Why would I be here if you aren’t?”

“Well, why wouldn’t you be?” And then I heard it. Years on and he was the same. His voice wavered in an almost undetectable manner when he asked a question which had answers that forked his life in two different directions. It had been that waiver that echoed in my head when he’d asked me out and meant it and it was that waiver that haunted me when I’d broken up with him in the Hospital wing, hidden behind a curtain as he asked me why I was doing this to him.

“Oh, Cormac –”

I tried to get up then, needing to hold him as I talked to him about just what he was planning on letting himself into. And why he really, _really_ didn’t want me in his life again – not like that. But clearly, I didn’t know my way around as well as I thought I did because the first step I tried to take, my knee smacked right into his coffee table. Hunching over with a whimper, I went to rub at my knee but he beat me to it.

Easing me back onto the sofa, Cormac sat beside me and draped my leg over his lap. I listened, silently as he fussed over me and apologised quietly again and again for not removing the coffee table. He insisted he should have known better and continued to berate himself when I reached out, putting a hand on top of his and making him fall silent.

“It’s fine, Cormac,” I insisted, “Remember, I used to bump into absolutely _everything_ even when I could see?”

He huffed out a grumbling chuckle, “I can’t deny that. But Godric, I’m sor –”

“Stop,” I cut in, drawing my knee away from him even when he tried to hold onto me longer. “I mean it, apologise to me one more time Cormac and I’m going home.”

“Sor –” He covered up the rest of his word with a cough. “Anyway, what were you reading?”

* * *

My experiences of walking with Cormac was a mixed bag; there were those occasions where absolutely no one approached us and we could just walk together. And then there were those times were someone happened to notice him and come up to talk and I always hid away. It was never too extreme, or it hadn’t been yet. But with the Quidditch season once more gearing up to take off, I should have expected the onslaught of attention. And yet, I hadn’t expected it at all.

In the morning, Cormac had pulled me out of the bed in his guest room and insisted that we _earned_ our breakfast by going on a walk. I wanted to remind him that I’d earned my breakfast simply by putting up with his way too upbeat morning attitude. But nonetheless, I’d allowed him to bundle me out of his apartment on a walk that he’d also reminded me was good for Cerberus. And if it was good for my baby, then I was going to do it. So we walked, chattering quietly between ourselves as we did. Part of me knew why we were walking in the morning, rather than in the evenings like we’d developed the habit of doing; he didn’t want to be seen. With the Quidditch season coming up, more and more people were approaching Cormac in the streets and if we were out whilst very few people were, he could get away with covering himself in a hoodie and drawing the hood over his head. He appreciated the attention; I knew he did but _he_ knew that the attention easily overwhelmed me. I silently added it to the list of things I needed to thank him for understanding.

“Angel,” he called abruptly, reaching out to take my hand. “There’s this café you should try – the waffles are to die for.”

“I thought you were off sugar for a while?” I frowned but letting him lead me towards the café. “Will they let Cerb in with us?”

“I’m sure they will.” He squeezed my hand softly, chuckling slightly before admitting, “I might not be able to eat sugar or another month or so, but I can get vicarious gratitude from watching you eat something sugary.”

“I really don’t know how you do it.” I murmured as he continued to lead me forward. “I could not give up sugar.”

“I guess you just couldn’t be a quidditch player then because you wouldn’t be able to stick to the routine.”

“Yeah.” I snorted, “ _that’s_ why I could never be a quidditch player.”

Cormac stopped then, and I _knew_ he was looking at me without my needing to say anything. Despite how often we’d been around each other, he wasn’t used to me being so flippant about it. And Merlin, I should have stayed my tongue because he always reacted in the same way. There was no exception.

When he moved closer, Cormac took my face in his hand, carefully cradling my cheek with such gentleness that I lifted my head towards him. His thumb, gentle and soothing, brushed over the swell of my cheek.

“I know I –”

“What the _fuck,_ is that Cormac McLaggen?” the shout pierced the air, making me want to spring away from Cormac who swore under his breath. He held me securely, taking my hand once more.

“We need to get out of here,” he said slowly, all thoughts of waffles disappearing from his mind. “Before people start –”

But it was too late. I could hear from the rapidly approaching voices that there was a group – still relatively small from the sound of it - that were approaching us. I clung tightly to the hand Cormac was holding, and with the other, I made sure I was holding onto Cerb’s harness securely.

“We should leave,” Cormac insisted again and I shook my head, remembering the articles that had been posted about him the last time he’d left curious fans behind.

“No, it’s alright.” I insisted even as I shuffled on my feet. He of course, picked up on it and called my name once more.

It was now _definitely_ too late with Cormac’s fans having reached our side. They spoke to Cormac, speaking excitedly over one another and paying me no mind as Cormac gave up holding my hand and instead wrapped it around my waist and drew me into him to make sure I was safe by him. On his part, Cormac did his best to politely engage with fans and it seemed the more he thanked them for supporting him and for their interest, the more people gathered around us. Merlin, this was becoming too much.

“I’m sorry,” Cormac finally said, picking up on my ever-growing anxiety. “But I really need to go.”

Not heeding the protests coming from the people around us, Cormac led me away, making sure that no one followed us. He continued to hold me firmly, speaking beneath his breath and assuring me that it was alright, that we were nearing an apparition point and he would have us tucked back in his apartment within minutes. He continued to apologise, ignoring my assurances that it wasn’t his fault, that it was something I just needed to get over on my own and that it would take time. He didn’t heed any of my assurances and as I clung to his side, I knew he was blaming himself.

* * *

For some reason, the last experience was something Cormac had locked deep inside himself. It had been days now and still, he held it in his unusual silence and the way he came back from his practices after having tired himself out beyond repair. And I was there, every evening to welcome him back into open arms that he seemed to believe he shouldn’t have been seeking refuge in. Merlin, I had no idea how we’d slipped into this pattern of life, but here we were, essentially living together.

Although, there was something different about the way he carried himself upon returning from practice today. His footsteps were harsher, resounding around the open floor plan of his apartment. Even when he returned from his shower, he was still carrying tension in him. I could feel it radiating across the room toward me.

“Cormac,” I said with a sigh, hearing the fridge open. Cerb lifted his head from where it’d been resting on my lap and whined as if he too was disturbed by Cormac’s behaviour. “What’s the matter?”

For a lingering moment, I believed he wasn’t going to answer me. Except, I heard the fridge closing followed shortly by the sound of his footsteps resuming and heading towards me. With a sigh, Cormac settled down on the sofa and I felt his fingers brush against mine as he too stroked Cerb soothingly. Cerberus abandoned whatever he was thinking of and lowered his head with a content whimper, languishing in the doubled dose of affection.

“Cormac?” I prompted again.

“Daily Prophet is spouting all sorts of rubbish,” he complained, the words coming out so short it was like he was speaking through clenched teeth. “I’m going to find out what arsehole wrote such horrible things and have them fired.”

“Can you do that? Isn’t there freedom of the press?” He scoffed loudly and I couldn’t help but wonder, “What did they write? Something about me?”

“I’m going to say yes and we’re going to leave it at that,” he said firmly. I knew better than to push and just nodded.

We settled into a contemplative silence that I broke, “I’ve been studying culinary magic lately and I think I have a knack for it.”

“The braille cooking books have been helping then?” Cormac caught my hand, linking his fingers through mine as Cerb shifted under our joined hands. “And the last few meals that you’ve said were ordered in?”

“I made them,” I confessed with a sheepish laugh.

“Well, my compliments still stand.” There was another silence before he spoke again, this time sounding apologetic in a way that I’d grown to hate. “I’m sorry.”

I tried to retract my hand but he held on securely, “How many times have I told you not to apologise to me?”

“It’s because I don’t know what else to say. All I seem to be doing is making your life harder.”

“I’m not sure I agree.” Ignoring his sigh, I insisted, “Before – before you came back into my life, I’m not sure I had a life. I spent so long living as a recluse but now, it might be a bit troublesome, but I like the life I have right now. It’s more fun for me.”

“You’re claiming that it’s alright that I bring so much hassle into your life?” he sounded incredulous like he didn’t believe me.

“It is.” He actually scoffed but I placed my free hand on top of his. “I mean it Cormac. And Merlin help you if you try to tell me that I don’t know my own mind.”

He chuckled under his breath, insisting slowly, “I’m not as thick-headed as I used to be.”

“Are you sure?” I wriggled my toes, admitting, “Actually, that’s not fair. You’ve gotten much better since we were at school.”

“Thanks for the rare compliment.” Slowly, as if he didn’t want to startle me, Cormac moved closer to me. When he completely removed his hands from mine, Cerberus whined in protest and I wanted to do the same. Not for long though, because he ushered Cerb away and moved even closer, so I was sitting cross-legged between his open thighs. Cradled so close to him, I swore I could feel his breath brushing against my rapidly heating skin. “Would it be okay – would _you_ be okay with me sticking to your side? For as long as you’ll have me?”

He dropped his head down, kissing my shoulder and stealing my breath in one go. “And if I want to keep you forever?”

“Then you’re stuck with me forever. I guess it’s good we used to joke about starting a family in Hogwarts – I already know how many kids you want.”

“Stop,” I tried to sound firm, but it came out as a whine. Reaching out, I tried to smack his chest and managed to hit his thigh.

“ _That_ was a nearly critical hit.”

“I mean it – you know I was off my face when we had that stupid conversation –”

“So, you don’t want 8 then?” he teased, his nose running softly along the swell of my cheek. “And I was _so_ looking forward to naming them all.”

“I swear to _Merlin_ Cormac –”


	2. Epilogue: 4 Years Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Over the years, Cormac had perfected a tone of voice that was just the right mixture of condescension and concern that it was able to get me to do anything.

_4 YEARS LATER_

Over the years, Cormac had perfected a tone of voice that was just the right mixture of condescension and concern that it was able to get me to do anything. Any time I found myself presented with something in life I didn’t want to face, or if there was something outside of my rapidly expanding comfort zone, he used that voice. That voice that was enough to sway me into rethinking a decision I’d made because I believed myself unable to do something that I really wanted to do. At first, I always hated him for it, but I wound up adoring him for it later. _Much_ later.

My book was just one example. Upon discovering that I’d been keeping a diary of sorts since the accident – something my therapist had recommended to help me cope – he had been the one to push me into considering publishing it. Cormac had insisted it would help other people to recover as well, to understand what it was like to one day lose your sight and have to live as if nothing had changed. Of course, I’d refused at first, unwilling to bare my heart and soul for the world to read and then he’d resorted to using _that_ voice. He’d claimed I was too much of a coward to do otherwise. Bastard. He knew it would get me to agree – or just to look into the idea of publishing.

And now here I was, almost 6 months into the process and having signed a contract with a publisher and preparing to publish the book soon. My editor had insisted that the manuscript required as little editing as possible – wanting to maintain the original emotion behind my words. Cormac had agreed. For some reason, he’d made it his absolute mission to accompany me to every meeting whether they were important or insignificant. He claimed he didn’t want me getting taken advantage of whilst I thought he was just bored because the Quidditch season had ended. Merlin knew why he was here, sitting with me at the final meeting with my publisher before the book hit the shelves.

Helga knew he wasn’t helping me with keeping our relationship a secret. It had been a mutual decision, with him wanting to keep me safe and I certainly wasn’t willing to find myself swarmed by cameras. It had been a mutual decision that he wasn’t helping me keep. Especially if he continued to trail after me like a shadow.

“Miss Tabler,” my publisher asked, watching as I trailed my fingertips repeated over my name, written in braille on the front cover. It was so strange, to actually be able to feel it now, was as if it had become real. All this time, it had been something held in my head, but it was now so very real. “Now that we’re done talking about work, I was wondering if you’re dating?”

I shook my head slowly, doing my best not to throw a cautious glance to where I knew Cormac had headed, promising to fetch us some tea. Of course, that had prompted some teasing from my publisher who wanted to know what she had to do to get someone like him to go on tea runs for her. Cormac had squeezed my hand then, warning me to keep my sharp-tongued remark – that you had to be hit by an unfamiliar curse – to myself.

“Well, if you’re not dating, there’s someone I wanted to introduce you to,” she confessed, leaning in close to me as if it was a secret only meant for my eats. How exactly was she going to keep it hidden when, from the sound of porcelain meeting the table, Cormac has reappeared? “Thank you, Mr McLaggen.”

“Oh.” What else was about to say, given the way the chair behind me scraped out from under the table; Cormac was beside me again. Helga, of all the times he could have picked to come back with our teas.

“It’s my pleasure,” Cormac assured in a way that, to my ears, it sounded like he’d thrown a pointed look my way. He’d even rested a hand on my knee.

“He’s a healer, working in St. Mungo’s,” my publisher continued, unperturbed by my obvious lack of interest. “Apparently you went to school together?”

“Didn’t you have a letter you needed to check?” Cormac asked abruptly, startling slightly. He rubbed my knee apologetically but continued nonetheless, “You had an owl arrive when we came for the meeting. But you haven’t had the chance to do it. Why don’t you do read it whilst we take a break?”

“Oh – I’d completely forgotten. Excuse me for a moment.”

“Take your time,” Cormac responded and I knew when my publisher had disappeared out of earshot because he turned to me and spoke in a way that let me hear the pout in his voice. “No? Why did you say no when she asked if you were dating anyone?”

“Because it’s what we agreed,” I reminded him, turning into him and letting myself rest against his chest. “Remember?”

Cormac dropped his head onto my shoulders with another sigh. With his forehead pressed against me, he shook his head. “No, can we not do this anymore? I’d rather we tell people and when we get married – _which I’m not pressuring you to do, at all_ – but when we do, I don’t want you blindsided by the media attention.”

“Blindsided?” I repeated with a smirk.

“Stop it,” he complained. “I’m being serious here. Can we not tell people? And if people try to do anything, I’ll sue every asshole paparazzi and get you some bloody peace. I will.”

“How about we compromise?” I murmured slowly, turning my head to kiss the top of his head. “A couple of months after the book has hit the shelves, can we do it then? The idea of attending the conferences and having _that_ much exposure is freaking me out. Can we do that?”

“We can do whatever you want,” Cormac assured, sounding so completely in love that I wanted to spit the words out right then and there. But I would save them, just until we got home.


End file.
